Page 4 of Inescapable Ties
“Tell you what. When you get married, or even get a girlfriend,maybeI’ll start taking what you have to say about relationships into consideration. Now, can we please get back to business?”
“Fine, fine,” he sighed dramatically, pretending to be wounded. “Back to business it is.”
We both turned our attention back to the bloodied man tied up in front of us. His face was bruised and battered, his clothes stained with blood. I could see the fear in his eyes as he shook, struggling against his restraints.
“So,” I said casually, twirling a blade between my fingers. “You feel like telling us what you know yet? Or should I keep going?”
The man sat tied to a chair, his face contorted in pain as blood dripped from various cuts on his body. The room was filled with the sound of his ragged breaths and grunts. My tools I used on him lay scattered on the table beside him, glinting under the dim light.
There was a reason I was known as “The Butcher.”
“Fuck...you,” he said, chest heaving.
“Wrong choice, kid.”
I grabbed a flathead screwdriver and shoved it under his thumbnail.
With a sharp tug, the nail tore off his thumb without breaking. He let out a loud cry of pain, tears leaking down the corner of his eyes.
“Fine, fuck! I don’t even work for them,” he said.
“And who is ‘them?’” Ettore asked.
“I don’t know! Some Mexican dudes. They hired me as an extra body for the gig.”
“Names,” I said.
“I don’t know! I was just an extra body.”
“Looks like you’ll be losing the index nail, too.” I moved the screwdriver back towards his right hand.
“Wait, wait! One guy was named Albert, I think. He was in charge. Please, that’s all I know!”
Ettore and I locked eyes, a wordless understanding passing between us. The man’s blank stare and fearful expression made it clear that this was all he knew.
“Can I go now?” he asked.
I put my gun against his head and pulled the trigger.
“God dammit,” Ettore said. “You got blood on my pants.”
“You turning into Felix?” I said, referencing our friend who was a cold-blooded killer, but would also whine about minor inconveniences.
“Watch it,” he said. “Now, I guess we have to find this ‘Albert’ guy.”
“Looks like it.”
Chapter three
Luciana
“Really?You’resellinghertoThe Butcher?“
Rolando, the epitome of professionalism, maintained his composure throughout dinner. As soon as all the men departed from our home, he unleashed a tirade upon my father with fierce intensity and passion.
“It is not selling, Rolando, this is an arranged marriage that is beneficial for both families,” my father responded.
“It is a death sentence,” he said, unable to contain the rage in his voice. “You know what he has done. What she’ll inevitably be dragged into.”
